Lyrics:
and flipped her e d d and went to school
She aint trying to go to work work work work work
Her nine to five is all up in the club
And she twerk twerk twerk
is important when im in my hotel room its full of females
All these producers wanna work wimme blow up my phone
And they send me these beats to my
find an icy track I slide on it
[Chorus]
I know there's got to be a fine honey
With her hands up in this club for me
I'm about to get her
And I
One, two, three, four, five, six
Bay hold on, you push a button
For that to come up, baby
You know I really get it
Go ask around the city
Hook up
out till it hit the news
Four five hit him body left his shoes
He walked up for beef then that nigga flew
Crossed off the list like we at a market
If
lightin up that strong, then pass it to my bro
Numbers don't lie, except 5-0
Different color Trukfit shirts
You niggas pull down your skirts
If I die
over here, you scurred?
Fuck them blaze up that erb
Boy ya walk in it's like you tinted
So did I mention
D.T.P. 'll tear da club up
Bitch nigga
sleepwalking
I'm living out every dream
It feel like it's Halloween but
Not because it was sweet
I filled the bag up by
Walking down the street
One, two, three,
in Miami white linen
Chips big spendin', walk up out the club with a shit load of women
Soon as I see what I like I'ma get it
I'ma get it, ooh, I'ma
niggaz get they domes smacked outta
We tired of these earthlings acting like they cowards
When you fuck up, we gettin' down for ours
Coast five million
we flow, we make it rain in the club yeah even snow
We got em by the dozen girls are addicted to the dough
Ayy, get like this get that cake and bake
get my money I'm gon' blow it
Fuck that, I'ma take mine and put it up
I got some foreign baddies in my DM they hittin' me up
They tryna get
a second, I'm finna put some fire to this joint, mmh
It's the bomb, niggas finna blow up like Atlanta at the Olympics (Atlanta at the Olympics)
Niggas be
about it imma admit it
Met a bitch in the club in Miami
Pulled up to her crib and she didn't have no panties
I pulled up with the pack but I'm not talking
Keepin up with the Jones
Writing, Vocals and Vocal Production: Diondria Thornton and Christopher Thornton Music Produced By: Christopher Thornton
Flashback, nineteen eighty-two
It's a Saturday, and I'm with my crew
After the cartoons, we're ready to go
Got a five-dollar bill, ready to blow
Torn up by the Kent, the Clark Dark
as the brothers try to spark
We knocked boots, and the boots got knocked
Three A.M. and it was off to The Rooftop
house don't wait up
We're gonna party and we're gonna do it all night
I got something in my pocket that'll blow your mind
I got something in a glass
niggas by the door get steezy
All my niggas on the floor get steezy
And all the shooters in the club be easy
Before you let it blow get steezy
All
It's the boy Lil' Jon (Yeah!)
Got my partner Yelawolf with' me (What's up Yela?)
You know it's time to crank the club up
Let's go! Yelawolf
You
O-ster roast ya, make me blow my composure
Pop it's all over, when the fo' fo' blows and goes a
When I'm up in the club
And these niggas they want to act
How they say I'll never make it i ain't even done
Don't need your 2 cents need blue faces by the ton
Tsai shen I'm his Son
Asian god with the funds
in Miami white linen
Chips big spendin', walk up out the club with a shit load of women
Soon as I see what I like I'ma get it
I'ma get it, ooh, I'ma
LET’S HIT THE CLUB, WE ROLLING TO THE CLUB, BOYS
(We rolling to the club boys)
(Rave)
{VERSE}
[RA]
DON’T, GET IT TWISTED
I WAS NEVER, ON ANYONE’S
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